“I bet you haven’t even seen the red bright district. You think you’re so smart, but you don’t know anything!”
The other girl sang, with her finger mere inches away from Becky’s face. Becky always hated it when the big kids told her she didn’t know anything. Adults did it too, but it didn’t make any sense. Nobody knew nothing, and everyone knew something. Duh. She scowled at Jenna and pushed the intruding finger away.
“You mean the red light district?”
The kids playing pretend on the grass a few yards away fell quiet. They could feel the storm brewing next to them. Some of the other children even elbowed their friends to shut up and listen. The topic of debate for this afternoon could easily be summed up as ‘The Baby Question’ and the excitement over all the different theories floating around only grew when the Headmistress herself forbid all discussion of it during school hours. Becky knew the answer, of course. But that didn’t mean that anyone would believe her when she told them, or that they wanted to listen to her at all. In fact, Becky found that the more she read at the library and learned about the way the world worked, the less her classmates wanted to listen and the louder that Becky had to talk for them to even acknowledge her. It made her so frustrated she wanted to stomp her feet.
Jenna jabbed her finger back towards Becky accusingly.
“You just don’t want to admit to everyone that there’s something you don’t know! My sister is a scientist and she says that the books they give to primary school kids are wrong.”
That left Becky silent. Never once did she ever suspect that anything in the library could be anything less than the goddess’ whole truth. The stories of Inanna blessing happy humans with children made so much sense before. Could it be that the adults didn’t want her to know the truth?
“And she told me” Jenna continued. “That the Barren know how and they practice it in the red light district!”
No. No way! Her parents wouldn’t lie to her like that.
“You’re lying! I’m gonna go there and prove it.”
Becky shouted, shocking herself with how sure she sounded. The words hung in the air for a moment, too far out of reach for her to take back or amend. Becky swallowed and noticed all the eyes looking at her. From all around the play yard, she could practically hear the other children picking their dropped jaws from off the cracked cement. Was she insane?
All the way across from the well groomed houses of the East village, over the brown and churning Fox river lay the sprawling mass of single room apartments that made up the West Side apartments. Becky had seen the apartments, from a distance. On some early mornings she made a point of looking out the window of her bedroom at them, the rickety looking buildings. They built on top of each other at odd angles, roofs walls and floors all being shared and passed between them. Some had ladders leaning up against them: the only way in or out. Becky remembered her Mom and Dad’s warnings, ‘Don’t go across the bridge’ they said, ‘Don’t stray from the East Side’ they said, ‘Criminals live there, dangerous people, murderers!’.
And Becky believed them, at least at first. But during her morning peeks through the window she saw something else. She saw people doing chores; washing clothes, sweeping, beating rugs, cooking! Criminals didn’t do chores, she thought. Criminals went around stealing from people, they hid under things; popped out and threatened you with knives and clubs. But there they were, acting almost human.
That last thought stuck with her the next day as she snuck away from the inattentive playground monitors and started walking her way across the large wooden bridge that separated two worlds.
The further into the West End she got, the darker it became. Even on a sunny day like today, so little light made it through the ramshackle buildings to the streets below. Everything became shades of greys and blacks, making it all the harder to avoid bumping into the Barren who walked the streets dressed in those same greys and blacks. The crowds made the walk slower the deeper she got, until they thinned out unexpectedly with a low crimson glow.
Becky had found it. With all its signs and its rosey glowing lanterns still lit and hanging from every doorway. Almost beautiful, Becky thought. But the rotting piles of trash and the strange unknowable odors that drifted through the air ruined the illusion. Somewhere in here, were the answers she was looking for. She got three steps forwards before a hand on the back of her collar arrested her movement, choking her. She struggled and kicked but the grip was too strong. The world went black.
Stupid girl. Coming here all the way from some cushy house on the east side. She couldn’t be older than ten years. Her clothes were too clean, stuck out like a tanner on the east side. Kay Morales stood over the child, contemplating what silly thoughts led her to walk all the way to this rotten part of the city. She’d pity her if she didn’t hate the brat so much. Or maybe it wasn’t hate. No, as the feeling welled up in her she could tell it was something much more bitter than hatred. She remembered this feeling, and as she recalled her own childhood filled with so many unfulfilled promises Kay keenly felt it’s sting.
As she carried the girl’s body out to the other kidnappers she put her tongue to her teeth and sounded out the word. Envy.
The other girl sang, with her finger mere inches away from Becky’s face. Becky always hated it when the big kids told her she didn’t know anything. Adults did it too, but it didn’t make any sense. Nobody knew nothing, and everyone knew something. Duh. She scowled at Jenna and pushed the intruding finger away.
“You mean the red light district?”
The kids playing pretend on the grass a few yards away fell quiet. They could feel the storm brewing next to them. Some of the other children even elbowed their friends to shut up and listen. The topic of debate for this afternoon could easily be summed up as ‘The Baby Question’ and the excitement over all the different theories floating around only grew when the Headmistress herself forbid all discussion of it during school hours. Becky knew the answer, of course. But that didn’t mean that anyone would believe her when she told them, or that they wanted to listen to her at all. In fact, Becky found that the more she read at the library and learned about the way the world worked, the less her classmates wanted to listen and the louder that Becky had to talk for them to even acknowledge her. It made her so frustrated she wanted to stomp her feet.
Jenna jabbed her finger back towards Becky accusingly.
“You just don’t want to admit to everyone that there’s something you don’t know! My sister is a scientist and she says that the books they give to primary school kids are wrong.”
That left Becky silent. Never once did she ever suspect that anything in the library could be anything less than the goddess’ whole truth. The stories of Inanna blessing happy humans with children made so much sense before. Could it be that the adults didn’t want her to know the truth?
“And she told me” Jenna continued. “That the Barren know how and they practice it in the red light district!”
No. No way! Her parents wouldn’t lie to her like that.
“You’re lying! I’m gonna go there and prove it.”
Becky shouted, shocking herself with how sure she sounded. The words hung in the air for a moment, too far out of reach for her to take back or amend. Becky swallowed and noticed all the eyes looking at her. From all around the play yard, she could practically hear the other children picking their dropped jaws from off the cracked cement. Was she insane?
All the way across from the well groomed houses of the East village, over the brown and churning Fox river lay the sprawling mass of single room apartments that made up the West Side apartments. Becky had seen the apartments, from a distance. On some early mornings she made a point of looking out the window of her bedroom at them, the rickety looking buildings. They built on top of each other at odd angles, roofs walls and floors all being shared and passed between them. Some had ladders leaning up against them: the only way in or out.
Becky remembered her Mom and Dad’s warnings, ‘Don’t go across the bridge’ they said, ‘Don’t stray from the East Side’ they said, ‘Criminals live there, dangerous people, murderers!’.
And Becky believed them, at least at first. But during her morning peeks through the window she saw something else. She saw people doing chores; washing clothes, sweeping, beating rugs, cooking! Criminals didn’t do chores, she thought. Criminals went around stealing from people, they hid under things; popped out and threatened you with knives and clubs. But there they were, acting almost human.
That last thought stuck with her the next day as she snuck away from the inattentive playground monitors and started walking her way across the large wooden bridge that separated two worlds.
The further into the West End she got, the darker it became. Even on a sunny day like today, so little light made it through the ramshackle buildings to the streets below. Everything became shades of greys and blacks, making it all the harder to avoid bumping into the Barren who walked the streets dressed in those same greys and blacks. The crowds made the walk slower the deeper she got, until they thinned out unexpectedly with a low crimson glow.
Becky had found it. With all its signs and its rosey glowing lanterns still lit and hanging from every doorway. Almost beautiful, Becky thought. But the rotting piles of trash and the strange unknowable odors that drifted through the air ruined the illusion. Somewhere in here, were the answers she was looking for. She got three steps forwards before a hand on the back of her collar arrested her movement, choking her. She struggled and kicked but the grip was too strong. The world went black.
Stupid girl. Coming here all the way from some cushy house on the east side. She couldn’t be older than ten years. Her clothes were too clean, stuck out like a tanner on the east side. Kay Morales stood over the child, contemplating what silly thoughts led her to walk all the way to this rotten part of the city. She’d pity her if she didn’t hate the brat so much. Or maybe it wasn’t hate. No, as the feeling welled up in her she could tell it was something much more bitter than hatred. She remembered this feeling, and as she recalled her own childhood filled with so many unfulfilled promises Kay keenly felt it’s sting.
As she carried the girl’s body out to the other kidnappers she put her tongue to her teeth and sounded out the word. Envy.